Surrender My Love
by Elly3981
Summary: Delita ponders on how to capture a certain angel and bring her to his bed... sequel to The Promise in a Kiss'


Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from FFT. I just like to play with them. I am not making any money off of this fanfic. (Although that would be nice) I am simply writing it for my amusement only (and yours too). I hope you like it. The lovely cover art is by Jie-Kageshinzo of DeviantArt so please drop by his page and leave him a comment!

Warning!: This fic contains material that are for mature audiences only. Although there is nothing graphic or vulgar, I suggest you do not read this if you are underage or uncomfortable with adult material. Other than that, enjoy!

Surrender my Love

Zeltennia Castle…

He had only intended it to be a simple kiss. What it had turned into… memories of it was keeping him awake. Lying back in his bed wide awake, Delita glanced at the grandfather clock at the far wall. It was midnight and he had not been able to fall asleep despite the fact that he had been up and running since dawn.

Earlier today, he had found Ovelia wallowing in misery and self-pity in the ruins of Zeltennia Castle's church. Feeling sympathetic to her plight, so similar to his own, Delita had only meant to comfort her but when she flung herself into his arms, he couldn't resist the temptation to kiss her. He didn't know what possessed him to do it. He was lucky he was able to force himself to stop; else he'd have a hell of a time explaining if someone walked in on them. Truth to tell, he wasn't even sure he cared anymore if someone had caught him kissing Ovelia. All he could think about was the tantalizing promise of the svelte body he held in his arms…

He had women aplenty but with Ovelia, he put the difference he was too experienced not to notice in the strength of his own desire down to the fact that she had for so long been a forbidden delight. A forbidden delight he had the fortune (and misfortune) to sample. All it took was one taste of her sweet cherry lips and he was instantly and hopelessly addicted. Yes, Ovelia was a princess. Yes, she was inticing, stunningly beautiful, desirable, and fabulously wealthy. All that was wonderful but there was more to her then just that.

Delita also wondered whether his infatuation with Ovelia stemmed from the fact that she reminded him so much of his beloved late sister, Teta. He had wanted to love her from the moment he first laid eyes on her but feared that in doing so, he would once again make himself vulnerable to the pain he felt when he lost Teta and he never wanted to go through that again. But unfortunately, a man cannot choose the woman he falls in love with; forces like these are beyond his control. As if the war ravaging the kingdom wasn't enough, Delita also fought an internal battle with Ovelia's inevitable conquest of his heart. Now he had to accept that the battle was over and he had lost. She was so temptingly worthy of the love he vowed he would never surrender to any woman. She was worth risking that kind of pain again and he wanted her but he didn't want her just once-he wanted her for a lifetime and beyond.

At first, Delita only thought to use Ovelia as a pawn to obtain the throne of Ivalice. Now the shoe was on the other foot. He was now willing do whatever it took to secure Ovelia as his bride and if that required him to win the throne of Ivalice, so be it. And until then, not only did he have to protect her from assassins, but he also had to make sure he kept other men's hands off of her as well.

But what about his hands? He could protect her from others but who would protect her from him?

Delita laid in bed pondering a little while longer, then gave a frustrated sigh when he realize that sleep wasn't coming anytime soon. Rolling out of bed, he put on a robe and left his room, intending on going for a stroll and thinking about how to capture a certain angel and bring her to his bed…

SSSSSS

Ovelia stood on the balcony to her room, her misty-blue eyes gazing up at the heavens, admiring the beauty of the countless stars dotted across the night sky as a cool evening breeze ruffled her silk nightgown. She couldn't sleep. Her thoughts were consumed with the kiss she and Delita had shared earlier that day. She didn't know much about passion, but she did know that his kiss felt wonderful. It was like a taste of heaven, every bit as wonderful as the ones she'd read about in books and she wished it hadn't ended when it did. She wondered whatever possessed him to do it. Was it a spur-of-the-moment impulse, or was it something more?

Ovelia knew that Delita was one of Ivalice's most eligible bachelors and a rogue of the worst sort, but he was the only one capable and willing to help her win the freedom she so craved. She wished she could believe that her fascination with him had nothing to do with the power lurking behind his devil-may-care façade or with the desire that flared when he held her in his arms-she'd be lying to herself if she did. He cared for her, of that she was certain. But his simple caring wasn't enough. She wanted his heart but would he ever be able to yield the love she so desperately sought? Could a marriage of passion alone with a man like Delita be enough?

Ovelia closed her eyes and sighed as she pondered the thought. She could just ask Delita if he loved her but that might be a tad too blunt and straightforward. It might even scare him off and that was the last thing she wanted. A stroll in the moonlit gardens was just what she needed. A breath of fresh air would do her good. After all, she didn't feel like she was going to fall asleep anytime soon…

SSSSSS

Ovelia slowly opened the door to her room and peeked outside, scanning the corridor. Since it was past midnight, it would be safe to assume everyone in the castle would be asleep. Seeing no guards around the corners, the princess tiptoed out of her room and snuck down the corridor, keeping to the runner so her footsteps were muffled. The corridor led to the long gallery. She reached its end and turned to the foyer at the top of the stairs-

And walked into a wall of muscle and bone.

She gasped. Delita caught her before she staggered back.

"What…?" In the weak light from the uncurtained windows, Ovelia took in the fact that he was dressed in a silk robe and, she suspected, little else. She felt her eyes widen; undirected, her hands spread over his chest as he drew her to him. She looked up and met his gaze.

Saw one brown brow arch. "Ovelia."

Where are you going? He didn't ask, but the words were there nonetheless, implicit in his quiet watchfulness.

She dragged in a breath, felt her breasts swell against his chest. "What are you doing here?"

He studied her face. "I was coming to see you."

And you? His ensuing silence prompted.

The fact that, on one point at least, his patience had reached its limits was easy to read in the set of his features, the granite planes of his face. Limned by the pale light, they were etched with brutally reined desire. Beneath her hands, his body told the same tale; the wide, warm muscles were tense with need.

Not knowing what else to say, Ovelia stuttered "I was going for a walk."

The words had barely passed her lips before he sealed them with his. The kiss was savage in its intensity, fair warning of what was to come. She pushed her arms up, wrapped them about his neck, welcomed that kiss, and kissed him back with equal fervor.

Ovelia had wanted to see him, exactly like this, precisely for this reason. She wanted to know how he felt about her and one look at his face without his social mask told her. It must have been quite painful for him to hold in his feelings for her and even if he didn't tell her in words, she knew he would tell her in other ways.

Delita broke from the kiss; it had already raged beyond his control. Control-what a joke. He'd thought, despite all, despite the rolling need that had him in its grip, that the accumulated years of experience would see him still master of his desire.

Two minutes and Ovelia had cindered every rein he possessed. Deliberately, effortlessly.

Held fast in his arms, she pressed against him, her supple curves, her lush lips, the trailing taunt of her fingertips on his cheek, the rise and fall of her breasts against his chest-all a flagrant siren's call as old as time.

Her eyes glinted up at him from beneath her heavy lids.

So be it.

"My room." His tone was gravelly with desire. "Come."

He released her, locked his hand about hers, and led her to his chamber. He didn't dare make more contact, had to move fast if he wanted to reach the privacy of his room. Ovelia hurried besides him without protest, committed, equally focused.

They reached Delita's door and he set it swinging wide. She went through, and he followed her.

Pushed the door closed behind them, never taking his eyes from her. He secured the latch and heard it click; in the same instant she turned to him and smiled her angelic smile.

And held out her arms. "Come. Let us love."

The room was dim with only two torches on the wall for light but even in the weak illumination, the light that shone on Ovelia's face, in her eyes, was impossible to mistake. He crossed to her without thought, drawn by all he could read, all she let him see. He took her hands, raised them to his shoulders, released them, slid his hands about her waist, drew her to him, and bent his head to hers.

"Ovelia, you must tell me if I hurt you."

Her fingers slid into his hair. "But I want you to hurt me..." she whispered.

Their lips met, fused-all pretense of rationality, all control slipping away. She pressed herself to him, drew him deep into the cavern of her mouth, teased him with her tongue, wantonly inviting him to ravish, to ravage, to plunder. She was with him every step of the way -every step into the maelstrom of desire, into the whirlpool of physical and emotional energies that sparkled about them. It drew them in, drew them down.

Into a world where passion and desire reigned triumphant.

He was craving, she flagrantly encouraged him to devour. He wanted-she tempted him to take. He wanted to posses her so utterly she would never doubt she was his-she dared him, challenged him, urged him on-wanted him to do it.

Head reeling, Delita broke from the kiss to feel his robe slide from his shoulders. Desire burned beneath his skin, a sensual flame. Ovelia spread her hands over his flesh as if she could sense it, as if she sought to conjure it, to feed the fire. Chest heaving, he watched her face, watched the womanly wonder as she realized how much power she had over him-watch the fascination dawn as it occurred to her just how she could wield it.

Her lips curved. She looked down. Let one hand slide from his chest, slowly down to his groin. He gritted his teeth at the feather-light touch, bit back a groan as she stroked, then closed her hand about him.

He saw her smile deepen.

And thought he would die when she brushed her thumb over his throbbing head.

He reached for her-and suddenly realized that she was still fully dressed and knew that he would never be satisfied until she lay naked beneath him. He backed her to the bed. She clasped his side, her other hand cradling him and looked up when he pinned her against the side of the bed. He kissed her deeply, letting his demons plunder, and set his fingers to her laces.

Stripping her nightgown from her took seconds; with another woman, he would have dallied, stretched the moments. With Ovelia, he couldn't wait, refused to wait.

When she finally stood naked before him, Delita took a moment and let his gaze sweep over her lovely body. Her smooth creamy skin, her succulent breasts, her lush curves, she was all woman-and she was all his for the taking.

Delita smiled wickedly. "Perfect."

He went down on his knees before her. Because of the difference in height, his head was level with her breasts. She looked down on him, one hand rising to spear through his hair. He settled lower on his knees before her, lifted both hands, and closed them about her breasts. Her lids fell as her body arched, wantonly inviting his caresses.

He caressed gently at first, but as her breasts swelled and firmed, his touch turned possessive. Then his fingers closed on her nipples and she gasped. He squeezed, then rolled the tight buds before releasing them.

Before leaning closer, lifting his face, inviting her kiss.

She kissed him, sank into his mouth, drowned in his heat, felt her senses drawn down, into the flood tide of need. Wrapping her arms about his head, she held him to her. He kneaded her breasts, then again, his fingers searched, found, tightened, tightened-until her knees turned weak and she sagged.

Releasing his lips, she let her head fall back and heard her own gasp.

He rose up; hands locked about her waist, held her steady as his lips, his mouth, hot and wet, trailed open-mouthed kisses over her jaw, down the column of her throat, then fastened over the spot where her pulse raced. He sucked, licked, then he shifted and his mouth trailed lower.

Over the tight swell of one breast.

His lips were like a brand on her skin. She gasped again, tightened her hand about his head, urged him on. Wickedly knowing, his lips skated, pressed, skated again. Tantalized and teased.

Just before Ovelia gathered her wits to protest, Delita pressed close still and licked. Over and around the peak of one breast. He laved, then slowly, closed his mouth over the aching peak, curled his tongue about the tortured bud, and rasped it.

She sucked in a violent breath, let it slowly out, felt the tension rising through her heighten further. He released that breast, repeated the subtle torture on the other neglected peak until both her breasts burned, heavy, full and tight.

Now it was time to move on. Placing his hands on her shoulders, Delita gently tipped her over and laid her down on his bed. He took a moment to let his gaze roam over her naked body again, this time, lying down with her fiery mane fanned out across the pillows.

She looked like an incredible sex goddess. His.

Hovering above her, Delita kissed her again. Ovelia felt a fiery heat as he took her lips once more and plundered. His lips slid down her neck as he dotted hot kisses down the elegant line. He went down and pressed his lips to her belly, probed increasingly, explicitly with his tongue, his fingers flexed, kneaded, held her captive. His to savor as he pleased.

That last was evident, even more so when he shifted lower still and nuzzled into the hollow between her thighs. She caught her breath on a shattered gasp, clutch his head with both hands, fingers sifting, tense, through his dark hair. He lifted his head from her, pulled back just enough to rearrange his knees, insinuating both between her legs, forcing them wider.

Wider. She looked down, and watched his face as he looked down at her, at the triangle of golden curls at the apex of her thighs. Then he leaned closer and set his hot mouth to the spot. She clutched his head, closed her eyes. Clenched her fingers in his hair when his tongue touched her. Felt his fingers flex possessively, then he tilted her, held her steady-and settled to feast.

Ovelia purred with delight as he lapped, sucked, probed; her flesh turned swollen, damp, quickly wet. She clung, eyes closed, her breathing fractured. Then she cracked open her lids, watched his head move against her as he worshipped her.

Spiraling tension coiled through her, sharp and bright, but it seemed to have nothing to hold on to, not yet. He pressed pleasure on her and she drank it in, felt it sink to her bones. Sensed the pleasure he took in pleasuring her, in paying homage to her, his goddess of desire.

"I want to pleasure you." He whispered as he looked up and met her eyes.

"You do pleasure me" she gasped.

Truer words were never spoken.

Delita gritted his teeth. The slick warm feel, the smell of her perfume, and the scent of her arousal nearly drove him mad. He couldn't wait any longer; he had to have her. He had to feel himself inside her, feel her surrounding him, feel them joined together the way men and women were meant to be joined. He sat up and positioned herself between her thighs.

"Stay with me, Ovelia."

His eyes locked with hers, he pressed deeper, deeper. She felt her body give, open, surrender to his assault, even though she wanted to resist; she was still incapable of fighting as he pressed yet deeper into her. She fought to hold his gaze as discomfort turned to pain, and built, built-

Her lids fell, and she gasped, arched hard beneath him.

He drew back and thrust powerfully.

Ovelia screamed, the sound muffled by Delita's lips on hers in a smothering kiss.

"Shhh…" he whispered soothingly into her ear "It's done. You will feel no more pain. Only pleasure."

Catching her breath, Ovelia looked up, gazing into her lover's moss-colored eyes. Raising one hand, she absentmindedly brushed back the lock of hair that had fallen across his face. The rest of her mind was fully absorbed with the strange sensation of having him inside her.

He seemed to sense it, to read it in her face. He withdrew a little, not even half of his length, then eased back in, as if testing her. She tensed, expecting pain, but…

He repeated the movement, still slow, controlled.

"Does it hurt?"

She blinked, drew breath, and shook her head. "No. It feels…" she couldn't find a word.

His smile flashed, but he said nothing, simply bent his head and pressed his lips to her forehead.

Then he withdrew and the dance began.

Ovelia gave herself up to it, to him-surrendered completely. Opened her body to him, opened her heart, and offered him her soul.

As she cried his name.

Delita inwardly grinned. The sound of his name on her lips as she moaned and sobbed her pleasure was music to his ears.

In the dark cocoon of the bed, in their mingled breaths, the shattered sobs and low groans as their heated bodies moved together, as the pace increased and the depth of his passion and need broke over her, buffeted her, pleasured her, a deeper understanding dawned.

While surrender was her gift to him, the most coveted element she brought to his bed, possession, in turn, was his gift to her. Yet, as she sensed his control slip and his desire break free, take hold, and drive him relentlessly, she had to wonder who was the possessed and who was the possessor.

Neither, she concluded as the wave broke and took them. Left them gasping. As they drifted, buoyed on fading glory, she finally realized what she suspected Delita knew all along. They were made for this. For each other -him for her, her for him.

Two halves of the same coin, bonded by a power nothing on earth could break…

SSSSSS

Sometime later, Delita awoke to find Ovelia exploring certain parts of his anatomy. She pulled her hand away as soon as she realized that he'd opened his eyes and was watching her. Delita reached over and put it back, right where he wanted it.

"I woke up," she said. "You were still asleep, but the covers were–well…" she paused, searching for the right word 'tented'. And I wondered if you were…" she blushed "If you had a condition I might take in hand…"

"Be my guest" he invited. "But beware, my lady, turnabout is fair play."

It was. Delita proved it twice by waking her in a similar manner after Ovelia fell asleep following their bouts of energetic lovemaking…

Ovelia woke at dawn and suddenly remembered just whose bed she was in. She had to leave and get back to her room quickly before the rest of the castle woke or else they would have a hell of a time explaining what they were doing in bed together if any of the castle servants walked in on them.

As she rose and tried to climb out of bed, she felt a hand close around her wrist and turned around to find Delita awake, smiling at her as he laid on his side, leaning on his elbow, his cheek resting on his hand.

"Where do you think you're going?"

She stared at him as if he were daft. "I have to get out of here before someone catches us."

"Ahh…I'm afraid I can't let you go just yet."

"What…?" She gave a startled gasp as Delita dragged her back to bed and pinned her beneath him.

"Forgive me, love."

"Forgive you?" Ovelia asked, her voice a shaky whisper.

"For making light of what must have been a first for you."

"I never knew…"

"Knew what? That lovemaking could be so wildly pleasurable? That you could feel such sweet fire?"

"Yes…"

Delita smiled. "There is far more to passion then what you just experienced, if you will allow yourself to discover it. I would very much like to teach you, sweetling." He bent his head, letting his hot breath caress cheek. "I want to be the one to show you the mysteries of pleasure, Ovelia. The one to reveal all the sweet secrets between a man and a woman…"

Ovelia blushed. "I'd like that very much…"

"Then say you'll marry me." His beautiful eyes sparkled and shimmered with hope. "Please?"

Ovelia wanted to laugh but thought better of it when she saw the look in Delita's eyes.

"You're serious." Not a question.

"I love you, Ovelia. And I will never stop wanting you now that I know how good it is to have you. You will be as you were meant to be: mine. No other man will ever lay hands on your skin, will ever caress your naked breasts." His breath washed over her sensitized lips. "No other man will ever come between your thighs, will ever bury himself in you, only me.

"Even if I agreed, you know that might not be possible."

"I will make it possible."

"Still, it's all so sudden."

"Just say yes" he purred "It can happen anytime you want. I promise to be patient."

She smiled, placed her hands on the sides of his face and pulled him down for another kiss.

"All right."

End

Author's notes: So what do you think? I've decided to take a break from writing my Ramza/Agrias romance and concentrate and Ovelia for a bit. Like Ramza and Agrias, I think that Delita and Ovelia would make a great couple so I came up with this fic as a treat for Delita/Ovelia fans even though I know it may be a little out of character and quite sudden. Even though he's not quite a saint, I don't believe that Delita was all that bad because he did helped Orlandu escape and spared Balmafula's life. So there's still a bit of goodness left him after all. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this fic as much as I've enjoyed writing it!


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